As Papa Lenslo.
The man who has loved you from the beginning.
The man who has missed you through the silence.
The man who never wanted distance to become part of our story.
Lottie, there may come a time when you ask questions about me.
Why I was not there the way a father should be.
Why certain moments passed without me beside you.
Why birthdays, ordinary days, school days, and growing-up days happened without my arms around you and my voice guiding you.
And if those questions ever come, I want you to know this first:
I never stopped loving you.
I never stopped thinking about you.
I never stopped being your father.
Distance may have changed what I was allowed to do, but it never changed who I am to you.
I am your Papa.
And you are my daughter.
That truth has never left me.
Lottie, I know absence can feel like abandonment when no one explains it clearly.
A child should never have to wonder why one parent is far away.
A daughter should never have to question whether her father cared.
And you, my Ate Lottie, should never have had to grow with missing pieces in your heart.
So let me say this clearly, in words I hope your heart will one day understand:
You were wanted.
You were loved.
You were missed.
You were never forgotten.
There were so many moments I wanted to be part of.
I wanted to hear your stories.
I wanted to know what made you laugh.
I wanted to know when you were scared, when you were proud, when you needed advice, when you needed comfort.
I wanted to be there not only as someone connected to you by name, but as a real father in your everyday life.
Because Father and Daughter is not just a title.
It is a bond.
It is presence.
It is guidance.
It is protection.
It is the quiet confidence a daughter feels when she knows her father is standing behind her, ready to support her.
That is what I wanted for us.
That is what I still carry in my heart.
And now, there is also your younger sister, Jashel.
Your Jashel Kaye.
I think about both of you—Chloe and Jashel—and my heart feels both love and pain.
Love, because you are my daughters.
Pain, because a father’s heart is not made to love from far away.
A father is meant to be present.
To hold hands.
To answer questions.
To teach lessons.
To wipe tears.
To celebrate small victories.
To be there when the world feels too big.
Lottie, as the ate, I know you carry a special place in Jashel’s life.
You are not only Chloe.
You are Ate Lottie.
You are someone your younger sister may look up to, learn from, and love in ways only sisters understand.
And I hope, with all my heart, that both of you grow knowing that Papa Lenslo’s love was never divided, never absent by choice, and never erased by time.
My love for you and Jashel is not something distance can destroy.
It lives in me every day.
There may be stories you have heard.
There may be things you were told before you were old enough to understand the whole picture.
There may be reasons, explanations, and versions of the past that made my absence look simple.
But life is rarely simple.
And sometimes children are left to carry the pain of decisions they never made.
That is what hurts me most.
Not just what I lost.
But what you may have lost too.
The memories we should have made.
The conversations we should have had.
The ordinary father-and-daughter moments that should have belonged to us.
I wanted to be there when you needed strength.
I wanted to be there when you needed direction.
I wanted to be there when you needed someone to remind you that you are enough, that you are loved, and that you are never alone.
And I wanted the same for Jashel.
For both of my girls.
For Chloe and Jashel.
Lottie, I am not writing this to make you angry at anyone.
I am not writing this to ask you to choose sides.
I am writing this because one day, you deserve truth.
You deserve to know that your father did not simply stop caring.
You deserve to know that Papa Lenslo carried your name in his heart even when he could not carry you in his arms.
You deserve to know that silence did not mean emptiness.
And distance did not mean I gave up.
I have imagined so many things.
What it would have been like to watch you grow.
What it would have been like to hear you call me Papa.
What it would have been like to see you with Jashel, laughing together, playing together, growing together as sisters.
What it would have been like for us to share a life filled not with questions, but with memories.
But even with all the pain, I still hold on to hope.
Hope that one day, when your heart is ready, you will search for the full truth.
Hope that one day, you will understand that love can survive even through separation.
Hope that one day, the story of Father and Daughter between us will not only be about what was lost, but also about what can still be restored.
Ate Lottie, my Chloe, I want you to remember this:
You are not a forgotten daughter.
You are not an abandoned child.
You are not a missing chapter in my life.
You are part of me.
And so is Jashel.
My love for you both has remained through every quiet year, every unanswered question, every painful distance, and every moment I wished things had been different.
I may not be able to change the past.
But I can tell you the truth of my heart.
And the truth is this:
Papa Lenslo never wanted to let you go.
Papa Lenslo never stopped loving you.
Papa Lenslo never stopped hoping that one day, you, Jashel, and I would find our way back to something honest, peaceful, and whole.
Lottie, no matter how much time passes, I will always be your father.
And you will always be my daughter.
My Ate Lottie.
My Chloe.
And together with Jashel Kaye, you will always be part of the love I carry.
Still here.
Still loving you.
Still hoping.
— Papa Lenslo
